


I died today.

by hazeleyes5390



Category: Fringe
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:11:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazeleyes5390/pseuds/hazeleyes5390
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thoughts that ran through Etta's mind as she died. </p>
<p>No copyright inFRINGEment. Hoping there isnt anything out there to close to this... I havent read any fanfic in a while. It makes the loss of Fringe all too hard to swallow. Please leave Kudos or comments. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I died today.

You never know when to give up, he says to me. You never know when to give up. Was it a statement out of hate? His eyes painted that so blatantly but Observers don’t feel do they? If they don’t hate, why do they kill? Why does eradicating us soothe them so much? As I watched him walk away, Windmark’s tense body seemed to relax, as in triumph in my impending death. Hoping in the hope that they would find me soon, I wished for a different ending.  
I never gave up on the thought of my parents being alive. I couldn’t. As much as Windmark held onto the thought of the future without humans, I held on to the thought of the man and the woman who had always been just a memory to me. They always seemed a good dream amongst a lifetime of nightmares. They were my home and who wouldn’t fight to get back home.   
My hands grasp the bullet. The one that Mom said Dad called “The Bullet that Saved the World”. I’ll never get to find out why because I’m dying. I know I am.  
In a world where families have been torn apart, I got my family back. I can’t keep the blood in and I don’t want to cry because they can’t help me now. As I keep the bullet grasped in my fist, my mind slowly unwinds. It’s not fair. I don’t deserve this. I hate you Observers. I hate you for taking my childhood, taking my happiness, taking them away from me. They are mine. They will always be mine. The love I have for them, they are mine. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. Someone please help me. Mom and Dad where are you?  
My chest bleeds, my eyes strain to stay open. To my left, two figures appear, freeze, and then run to my bleeding body. As my blood warms my skin, their proximity soothes me. My father grabs me, pulling me to his chest. Holding me, I feel safe. I look to her face, my mother. I see strength from her, the one I recognize from all the pictures I saw of them. In all the time that I studied them, the history painted them as an invincible team who were as strong as the bullet that I still grasp in my hand.   
They look at my wounds and their pained faces now hurt me. I’m not alone anymore and they can get an emotional fix, that while I am dying I will be safe. Safe from the Observers, safe from checkpoints and loyalists. But who will keep them safe? I know they will make it, they are strong, right? The time we spent together, many told me we weren’t ever going to have. The time came that my thoughts, my hopes were real and the family my heart and my mind struggled to remember reappeared. Maybe I shouldn’t have wished for them back so much because now it’s my time to go. I put a peaceful look on my face, fooling them as I did the Observers. I don’t want to hurt them anymore. I can’t. I’ve seen how the past hurts them.   
My father isn’t going to take this well. He has broken down around me. I don’t want to look at him because I can’t. I still can’t face the fact that I am dying.  
As I look to my mother’s eyes, the pain in them for me has faded. This soothes me for some reason. I want to understand it as much as I want to stay. It makes the pain of my wound throb in the distance. The sticky wet feeling of my blood doesn’t bother me as much as it did moments ago. Her face gives me a sense of hope. She isn’t upset, she looks capable of saving me. Saving me not from death, but from hurt. It hits me. My mother accepts my death.   
The realization of this doesn’t hurt me. It gives her time to speak the words that I’ve needed since the pain started. Windmark hasn’t taken everything from me. My mother and father love me. This is the end right? This is how my story is supposed to end. For all the people who died without a glorious ending. For all the people who were torn away from their families by an emotionally void Observer. I got my glorious ending. It isn’t the ending I wanted. But I got them back.


End file.
